


Together We'll Be

by Bofur1



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Friendship/Love, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Marriage, Moria | Khazad-dûm, Other, Requited Love, Sad Ending, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-12
Updated: 2014-04-12
Packaged: 2018-01-19 03:08:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1453192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bofur1/pseuds/Bofur1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You change me,” he says pensively. “I’ve never met anyone quite like you.”</p><p>ReaderxBalin, because Balin is fluffy and adorable and needs someone to cheer him up after the Battle of the Five Armies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Together We'll Be

Here you are, standing across from him in the Halls of Erabor. This is the first time you’ve actually been introduced.

“____, at your service,” you greet him hesitantly.

“Balin, at yours,” he returns in a voice barely above a whisper. His bow is slow and unsteady, as though he’s too weak to straighten immediately.

You know it’s wrong...this isn’t the Dwarf you’ve seen throughout your life. That Dwarf named Balin back in Ered Luin, he always had a smile on his face and if it was forced, surely it was a good thing, because it made it shine all the brighter.

Now...he’s almost unrecognizable. You can’t really blame him—you all are grieving for Thorin Oakenshield, Fíli Ashrisen, and Kíli Stormarrow, but Balin and his brother were closer to them than anyone else.

You’ve heard others telling Balin it will be alright, that Dain Ironfoot will be a good King, that the grief will lessen with time, so on and so forth. Isn’t it obvious that he doesn’t need assurances now? He needs understanding.

On impulse you tell him, “I’m sorry.”

You see silent sobs shake his shoulders at the simple words. He pulls back after a long moment, dragging in deep breaths. You watch him with aggrieved compassion as he turns and slips away to the shadows where he can weep in privacy.

After the King and Princes are buried in the Mountain they died for, Balin approaches you. “I wanted to thank you,” he murmurs. “For...what you said.”

You nod somberly. “If you want to come to my place sometime and talk, the door’s open.”

A week later, he takes up the offer. You hear your name at the door and turn to find him standing there, staring at the floor.

It becomes a weekly habit for you to visit with him and it does both of you good.

 

When Balin finally asks you to come to dinner, you are surprised but pleased. His brother Dwalin wears an expression of something akin to relief as Balin enters with you on his arm.

That night you see Balin’s burden lift almost completely. He ignores his dinner in order to tell you stories. He can speak of Thorin and his nephews with only a hint of sadness, narrating past antics of theirs. You laugh until your sides hurt, especially when he can laugh with you.

You part at the halfway point between your quarters and his. Thanking him for a memorable night, you bump heads with him. He studies you with a strange expression on his face before taking your gloved hand in his and squeezing it gently.

“____, you...change me,” he says pensively. “I’ve never met anyone quite like you.”

You blush, realizing where this is going. With a deep breath you pull your hand back, letting your glove slip off. He removes his own and then methodically interlocks your fingers, letting your skin touch for the first time.

The reaction is instant, jolting you both with a sudden lightning that warms and chills you at once—and you know. His smile is lit with the green light that’s shining from your hands and your returning smile is just as brilliant.

 

A few weeks later, you and Balin are making plans for your marriage, but King Dain cuts into the situation, saying that Balin is needed in the march for Moria. He is dismayed at this news but only you can see it. When he turns to you looking helpless, you know what is going to happen.

“I’m going with you,” you announce. He starts to protest, but you won’t be deterred. “We were meant to be together and together we’ll be!”

Balin stares at you for a long moment and then laughs in wonder. “How did I come by a soul mate like you?”

Unfortunately, Moria is a long journey away and you know you won’t be able to wait that long to marry Balin. Whenever you’re near him, you get this sudden, anxious urge that somewhat frightens you. You reluctantly tell him about it after struggling through five weeks and Balin immediately understands.

“We marry now, then,” he suggests. You are startled by this, but he insists, quoting you: “‘We were meant to be together and together we’ll be’.” Then he kisses your hand, marches over to your companion Óin, and asks him to be the officiant.

It’s very simple—you, Balin, and his two dear friends Óin and Ori standing next to one of the wagons out of sight from the others. Óin proudly helps you say your vows and Ori scribbles furiously in his notebook, trying to capture the joy on your faces before it’s gone. You and your husband look at the drawing later and nod approvingly, much to Ori’s delight.

 

Moria is yours! At the end of the winning battle, Balin picks you up and twirls you around, never mind the fact that you’re both filthy and covered in blood. You celebrate with him, ignoring the tiny seed of doubt that has settled deep in your heart.

The next years of refurbishing go smoothly and you’re certain you’ve never seen Balin so...content. Erabor stifled him with the memory of his lost family, but here...here is a new beginning! You’re hoping to start some new beginnings to carry on the line, but it hasn’t happened yet. Óin says that if you and Balin aren’t able to have children, you can adopt. You let Balin go down to the Mirrormere, one of his favorite quiet places, so he can mull it over.

Then the Orcs return. You hear Óin and Ori shouting desperately and run, finding them kneeling on the ground by Balin’s still form. He’s gone before you can reach him.

When the Orcs begin their repeated attacks, breaking down your defenses one Dwarf at a time, no one can touch you. You defend your husband’s coffin with a manic vengeance that only a bereaved Dwarf could understand.

The cave-trolls come next and that is what fells you. A large arm slams you against the coffin, breaking your bones and rattling your mind. As you struggle back to your feet, the one Orc who has escaped death in every battle sees you, firing a black arrow in your chest. You slump down, gasping out blood, and press a trembling hand over the letters carved into the stone coffin.

“Together...we’ll be,” you whisper. You feel your soul leave you, but you hardly mind. It belongs to him now.


End file.
